


Visions

by izuruthemad



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Second Person, Poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 06:35:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14014320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izuruthemad/pseuds/izuruthemad
Summary: When you look at him you see your future together, including the bad things.





	Visions

When you look at him, you see your future together.

You're not sure if it's unusual, you decide. You never need say anything about it. It enthralls you, yet it scares you.

You squeeze his hand tightly when it happens. His hands are cold, and very thin.

He looks at you. You know what he wants to ask. He understands what you know.

_what do you see?_

You smile, reassuringly. The question was never spoken, but you see it in his purple eyes, which sparkle like gemstones, precious and entirely his own.

"It's nothing, darling."

 

 

He's not always in a good mood. There are his days, when he's out of it, and he pleads for you to run, because he feels broken; he feels like a danger to society because he doesn't act like everyone else. You stay by his side because you know that if he had to go through this alone it would hurt him that much more.

He tells you that it feels like you understand him better than anyone, that you know exactly how to help him. You just do what you can, because he deserves it. Because you feel like you can see what happens if you forget to let him know that.

You squeeze his hand. His hands are shaking. His hands are clammy.

He looks at you. He can't seem to understand what you're seeing, but he knows you do anyways.

_what do you see?_

You turn your head away from him. You smile, but you don't meet his gaze. His eyes are duller today, like matte paint on the canvas. It worries you. You want to wash the grime out of the crystal lenses of his vision and make them grow bright again.

"It's nothing, love."

 

 

You want to help him, but you don't know how to do it. He told you about how he felt, how he feels isolated because of what he cannot understand. He hit his head pretty badly back there, when they messed with the floorboards.

_concussion? concussion._

He seems worse lately. He tells you he feels disassociated from the rest of you. He watches them cry and he feels nothing. They tell him he's alone. They tell him he's unloved.

You quietly disagree. You didn't disagree loud enough for him to understand, because he can't pick up on subtle clues like the rest of them. You have to tell him outright, he explains, through his tears. He doesn't get it, Saihara.

He's crying now. He tells you that you have to stay away from him, that it's all a  _lie_ ~~truth~~ and that he's dangerous  ~~but you know he doesn't mean to be~~. You know he loves you, he showed it when he offered to play games and when he let you bandage up his finger that one time.

You brush his purple hair away from his face. His tears are like crystal, too. He is a precious gemstone.

You take his hands in your own and squeeze them. They squeeze back. They are clammy.

He looks at you. He knows that you see it. You told him the first time. He asks you outright. 

"What do you see?"

And in your vision you see cloying, saccharine flames beckoning you. You see the downfall of the world as you know it.  _where's the cause?_ and he's right next to you, and his arms are wrapped around your waist and you fluff his hair as the glass shatters and the sky falls in pieces around you. And you want to jump into those flames like everyone else did but his arms keep you there in one last attempt to somehow find companionship.

 _his eyes, they are mad._ His stare is maddening. He doesn't understand why you are sad. He didn't care for them anyways. They weren't important. You know he didn't cause this but he acts as though he did, piano keys littering the ground from when the lid smashed down and dislodged them from the table. It won't play music anymore. He took responsibility for this, even though it wasn't his fault.  _I was suspicious already, wouldn't it make perfect sense, Saihara-chan?_

and you tell him to let go, because you're afraid not of him, but for him. Tell him to think of himself for once. But he disagrees, his white shirt and pants tattered, his scarf blowing away in the wind. You look at him and see white, as if he was already dead. And he tells you;  _he'll protect you, dearheart, he'll do anything to keep you safe,_ but there is nothing to save you from.

"What do you see?" he asks you; you didn't answer right away and the tears come down faster at this point.

You smile gently. It's why you're there for him, so it can't ever happen; but it still sends shivers down your spine. His eyes are clear; pools of water with no end. You dive in. The water is cold on your toes, but you move your arms against their currents anyways. It's thick like the grape soda he likes to drink. In their depths, they are beautiful, but the madness you saw is there, just underneath the surface, ready to come out. His eyes are like marbles. You want to rip them from their sockets and keep them on display like a priceless treasure. Maybe if he was blind he would not have to see what makes him feel so damn broken. 

"It's nothing, sweetheart."

 

 

_What do you see?_

His blood covered the floor, oozing out from beneath those metal plates. You saw videos, once, of people crushing things for fun, like batteries and fruit, to see how they'd react. You didn't expect to add a human to the list.

You can feel his ghost dance around you, pulling at locks of your blueish black hair, peering into your golden eyes like mirrors, brushing your tears away. You wish for another lie. Why couldn't this be a lie too?

You can't see his eyes now. They are gone, like the rest of him. You wanted to see his eyes, if only for one last time. You wanted to properly mourn him, to bury him, to close his eyelids for him so he could rest.

You're crying now, even though back home, they insisted that you didn't. 

"What's wrong, Shuichi? Are you alright?" they ask. You don't know how to respond, so you don't.

 _What do you see?_ ~~~~the ghost of Kokichi Ouma asks him, as he gets closer. That jacket sleeve belonged to an astronaut, but he knows the person underneath the sheet was a little more down-to-earth. Just part of the plan.

His voice chokes on the words, butchers them.

"It's nothing, darling."


End file.
